A Death Eater's War
by Yuna Cifer
Summary: Harry Potter triumphs and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is defeated. The victory is recorded chapter and verse in history books, but what about the other side of the battle? What was going on the enemies side, was it a complete defeat. Or a victory for some. This is the Death Eater's war. The story of Morgan Cifarelli.


**Welp, I was supposed to post this in like May when it was the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, May 3rd or something like that, but it wasn't finished. I only just remembered it now and completed it. So hear it is. **

**The other side of the war. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own just playing in Rowlings sandbox. **

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The wind whips biting into my standard issue Death Eater robes, chilling me bone deep. The wind whips at my robes smacking them against my thighs, their midnight black texture bleeding into the night sky. I inhale the chilly air, despite the mild May weather the temperature has dropped leaving an unsettling chill upon everyone.

My comrades and I stand waiting for Hogwarts barriers to be stripped down. I say comrade at least. I just can't feel apart of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord's regime. I harbor no hate for muggleborns, half-bloods, or muggles.

I only joined the Death Eaters out of necessity; I have a family, two beautiful daughters, Elena and Mary. Elena she's six and Mary she's four. Beautiful angels the both of them, blonde curls and blue eyes. The cutest dimples too. Their mother Anna, like a fallen angel, that's what I tell her at least, _a fallen angel_ straight from God's side.

I met her at a Christmas ball, I was standing on the sidelines like usual – due to a lack of coordination and an incident involving red wine and Narcissa Malfoy's _very_ expensive and _white_ dress, I opted out of ever dancing again.

Alas, my father Edgar insisted on having me attend the dance and as he put it _eventually prepare for the day I will become patriarch of the Cifarelli family._ So naturally I went.

A nudge against my shoulder shoves me out of my reverie. I wonder for a second what brought me all the way back to that time but I toss it aside to acknowledge Cyril Malecot. Cyril is one of the few people in the Death Eaters whom I respect. Like any pureblood he is prejudiced but he was brought up that way – we both were.

The only difference being I couldn't see any reason to hate them. Blood and social status didn't seem enough of a reason to hate someone to me. No muggleborn has ever done me any harm and until they do I'm not going to start hating them – even then I wouldn't start a war over it.

You don't start wars over something that's gone.

"Aye, Marg you nervous, bet you are – can't see you killing any mudbloods," I am nervous, terrified, cold, freezing. Cyril is only curious though, he's looking at me a carefree grin plastered on his face. His eyes scrunched up, skin creasing. The lines aren't right though, he's nervous to – the smile fake.

I put on my mask to – for him.

"No – not at all Sy…nerves of steel ya know," The nicknames their comfort to. Sy started the nicknames giving them to everyone even the Inner Circle, which in hindsight was quite hilarious. Dolohov was crowned with the nickname Dolly, Greyback got the incredibly inappropriate name Kitty, and Lucius or as it were Luscious, and that's to name a few. Me I got Marg short for Morgan, well according to Sy that is.

Cyril's grin slips off his face like water off a duck.

The wrinkles surrounding his eyes remain though. My heart quivers because he is so young, twenty years old at the least. I don't know much else nobody bothers talking about their families anymore.

Cyril nods and shoves his hands in his pockets. The wind whips his robe up snapping it back down with a crack.

"So what do you think once we blast our way through, and take over the school?" _I hope we never get in_. Is what I think. But I clench my teeth and wonder. What happens next if we succeed?

"Nothing – I suppose we win, we return home to our families, life as normal resumes," Once again what would _normal_ be if we won. I don't entertain the thought because we wouldn't win. _I hoped not_.

"Yeah, home, that would be nice wouldn't it," he sounds wistful; he leans back and stares at the bridge seeing something only he could see.

The bridge is peaceful and quiet from here. The Snatchers stand and taunt the students on the other side though. An unpleasant atmosphere soaks slowly with the beautiful and quite atmosphere of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

I'd never been in many combat situations but when I had been the worst part had always been the waiting. You'd dodge, hide behind whatever decimated piece of rubble you could find and just squeeze your eyes shut and hope to God that they didn't find you. Then you'd wait and BANG! You're back up again shitting yourself running hoping not to get blown to bits because you're wearing the wrong color robes.

The wind gives one last big gust and a cacophony of snapping robes responds. Then a shower of white fireworks spreads into the sky, each one landing softly – and exploding - onto Hogwarts barriers. Each of the white fireballs explodes on the barrier sends a visible ripple throughout.

The fireballs don't seem to be doing much.

"Wands at the ready!" Lucius, he sounds tired worn down to the very edge.

I flick my wrist releasing my wand from its holster. From the corner of my eye I can see Sy clutching his wand staring determinedly his face hard as stone. I clutch my wand tight. We both clutch our wands tight – tight enough to cut off circulation and whiten our knuckles.

The wind swirls around us, tight with tension and magic crackling in the air. The atmosphere is practically buzzing with the bloodlust of the Death Eaters and Dark Magic crackling in the air. It is nearly euphoric with the adrenaline. I imagine for some it is just euphoric.

The buzzing settles for a second and then: "Fire - fire at will."

Thousands of burst of little fireballs blast into the sky, including my own. We fire of three rounds of the fire balls and the barriers start to crumble, burning up in flames, unfolding like a blossoming flower.

Hogwarts barriers crash and immediately the Snatcher give chase down the bridge. The students run, they stop halfway and then the bridge is in flames hundreds of Snatchers fall, screaming engulfed in flames. I try tearing my eyes away but I can't bring myself to – I don't know why. I still don't know why.

With the bridge gone we have to apparate. Cyril gives me a good luck grin and pats me on the back.

"Seeya on the other side mate," and that's the last I see of him, alive.

I turn on my heel and I'm transported to hell.

It's a massacre there, there are already over a hundred trampled, eviscerated, burnt, bloodied corpses. I take a step and there's a splash. Blood.

Puddles of it. I take a gulp of air, squeeze my eyes shut and move forward.

_And try and not think about how small those bloodied corpses were._

There's nothing I can do. Not anymore.

I walk a few feet, I can hear blasts and spells being cast. I pick up my pace not eager to help just eager to get this over with. It's Luscious and he's fighting two Aurors. He's doing fairly well against the Aurors but he can't keep it up forever.

Lucius backs himself into a corner and the Aurors are on top of him. That's my cue. I step in and stun both Aurors in quick succession. Lucius looks at me, surprised – surprised that anybody would stick their neck out for him. I don't know – don't care. Lucius may be a prick but I'm not about to stand by and watch a man die and wife become a widow a son become fatherless.

No matter how much better they would be without the father.

A father is a father everyone deserves one.

"Get out of here – Now." I tell him, it's the best I can do, I just hope he gets the hint and takes Narcissa and Draco with him.

Lucius clutches his wand and runs off. I do the same but, instead I head deeper into the battle.

Everything is shattering and falling. Marble explodes above my head and I fling myself to safety only to find my back is exposed. I immediately twist around and two curses are simultaneously jetting towards me.

I dodge one and the other misses. In return I send two stunners at my opponents. One misses. The remaining one looks bemused for a second but sends a blasting curse. It misses exploding the stone wall behind me.

I jump forward rolling and cast another stunner. My opponent shields himself. He's very tall and the dirt on his face gives his already dark complexion a sharp look. Red robes drag along the decimated marble floors.

Red Robes throws another spell I dodge and return in kind. We continue like this for some time, fighting in tandem. A twisted ballet of sorts: Moving to the rhythm of blood pumping furiously in your veins, keeping time by the periodic concussive blasts in the background.

I hear shouting and footsteps, more of Red Robes companions are on their way, I have to finish this.

I fire a very reluctant cutting curse. I cut out of there just as Red Robes companions show up, trying to apply pressure to the fresh slash in Red Robes abdomen.

And our dance with the Devil ends.

I streak past more corpses, more dying faces. I run and pass a person just as their hit by a blasting curse – I look away but I can still hear it, the wet smack as everything went – everywhere.

I pause in a corridor, it's relatively deserted. I still hear the explosions though.

I lean my head back against the stone wall. Before I know it my legs are giving out and I'm sitting down. I squeeze my eyes shut, trailing my hands along the puckered marble floor.

Marble floors like at home – home. Elena, Mary and Anna.

_"You don't have to do this," Anna insists - sitting on the couch, leaning forward - her blue eyes burn with the strength to change this._

_"No – I have – need to." I stare at my hands, calloused fingertips splayed out palms up._

_Silky warmth lies upon my forearm, Anna – her delicate hand massages little circles. She doesn't say anything – she doesn't need to. I already know._

_"I need to do this – join – keep you all safe. No other way."_

_The soothing circles stops and Anna's hands are gripping either side my face, and I'm facing her._

_"There are other ways, we can find a way – move, go to France, America – it doesn't matter." says Anna, her expression and voice, calm and steady._

_"No we can't – the kids – we can't uproot them like that – I'll accept the offer and you and the kids will be safe." I say, pulling out of Anna's grasp. Her hands fall limp at her side._

_"The Death Eaters – you'll be…"_

_"I know – but I have to." For you and the children, I look at the ceiling where I know Elena and Mary are sleeping upstairs in their beds._

_Anna follows my gaze, and then her small hand slips into my own. I squeeze her hand, letting her know. She turns around lips set into a hard line, brow pulled down._

_"I don't like this one bit – not at all – but one thing, just one thing for me and the girls, ok." she says, gripping my hand tight._

_I nod. "Anything."_

_"Don't lea –"_

A ripping groaning sound echoes down the corridor, and I don't have time to waste.

I realize quickly that the noise is of the ceiling collapsing.

I jump off the dusty floor, weakened legs forgotten. The corridor continues to groan and screech as I sprint down it and take a left. I round a corner and see a blond girl backing down the corridor. I stop my progress, and press myself against the stone wall.

The blonde girl continues backing down the corridor but ducks suddenly as a jet of green flies past her head. She retreats more hastily, no longer watching her step; she stumbles on a pile of rubble.

Black robes slip into view, towering over the young girl, her watery blue eyes widen in fear. I know this kind of Death Eater, the grunt; the only things they do well are torture and kill.

The girls' future is looking bleak – and short. Grunts are ruthless and nobody deserves to die by them.

A promise surfaces, _a vow_.

_Don't leave us._

_I won't, I promise._

_Just don't –._

_I know, I won't – promise._

Before I know it I'm rushing toward the girl - my family, blonde hair, blue eyes - and the Grunt is stunned, falling boneless to the ground. The girl has a 'deer in the headlights look', she stares at me surprise and fear cementing her to the spot.

Her big blue eyes scan me, analyze me. Questioning. _Why_. Why am I still alive? Why haven't you killed me yet? Your one of the baddies, that's what you're supposed to, _kill_, that's how it works.

This isn't how it works; the baddie doesn't have a change of heart and save the damsel. Then what for, why do _this_. Isn't everything supposed to black and white? Good guys and Death Eaters.

The girl's world has been tilted on its axis, everything has shifted. The line between black and white has shifted, faded turning into a murky gray blotch, a blur between good and bad.

The girl still stares her expression an odd fusion between paralyzing shock and fear and dreamy bewilderment. Her small mouth hangs slightly open, lower lip slightly bleeding staining pink lips, cherry red.

I could try and comfort the girl, tell her I mean no harm. Tell her to run as far away as possible. But if she's already here, fighting, then she wanted to be here…to fight, defend Hogwarts. School a student, probably no more than eighteen years old.

There is nothing to say. I can't – won't say anything.

Yet I find myself turning my back sending the girl a minute nod. So tiny I doubted she even saw it.

She saw it.

"Thank you." her voice barely wavered in her appreciation.

Appreciation I didn't deserve.

I leave as quickly as possible, quickening my pace with each step. I end up running straight out of the castle onto the front lawn.

I walk sedately across the grass, there is almost complete silence on the lawn. The grass is burnt and torn apart from battle, blood stains glitter on top the grass, a reminder of what occurred.

The air still crackles with Dark magic, a whisper of the nights violence. Bodies still lay on the ground, many of the Order members dead have already been taken back, all that remains are black robes, the rags of snatchers.

I walk further and spot a very very small...body. I crouch down and am stunned this child is neither Death Eater nor Order member. The boy is so small, his eyes a shocked pale blue, skin a dull white from death, hair a stunning platinum blonde. I can't help but feeling pity at the lose of an innocent in this war and all of the other innocents.

I close the boys eyes and rearrange his arms and legs from their previous position. I lay his hands together, as if in prayer, and leave.

I didn't see it myself but I felt it, and I suspect all of us felt it.

I felt it, like a million needles pulled out of my arm simultaneously. When it happened I had thought I was dying. I was told that the Dark Lord could kill us through our marks we'd all thought it was a scare tactic, keep us in line, to discourage defecting.

Scare tactic or not. I believed it one hundred percent then. The pain was deafening that's all there was the needles ripping out of me, wanting out. I scraped at my arm, pulled up my sleeve and saw it. Ink black smoke leaking out of the mark.

It was getting out of me. Not infecting me, killing me.

I didn't know why the mark was leaving me now but it was. I grabbed a handful of my robe and stuffed it into my mouth, the pain becoming too unbearable.

As the pain hits its peak I blacked out.

When I came to it was to a free world, the Dark Lord had been defeated.

We had survived the war. We all did Anna, Elena, Mary. It was but one small sacrifice that all Death Eaters had to serve a sentence in Azkaban for war crimes.

In three years I'll be released and go home to my wife and daughters.


End file.
